He Will Always Win

Xanadu Weyr - Main Clearing
A wide clearing stretches from east to west, the ground packed hard although grass grows across most of it. Trees are strictly forbidden in this space, their danger to the constant draconic traffic reason enough to banish them to the forest that creates a border to the north. Where the ground is less trampled, tiny flowers poke their delicate heads out from their shaded hiding places with upturned petals to wave to whoever may be looking.

The cliff looms imposingly on two sides. Toward the southwest, a spire stretches up to high above where the everpresent watchdragon sits on a lonely peak with Xanadu's Starstones. A massive rocky spur extends to the north, curved slightly to hold the clearing and pocked with doors and windows.

The hatching arena and Dragonhealers' Annex sit to the southeast, built together into a single complex that takes up a large portion of the perimeter beneath its domed roof. To the southwest, wide steps lead up to the caverns, and almost directly south is the entrance to the Infirmary. Nestled between the infirmary and the main caverns there's a human-sized archway with frequent traffic - it leads to the Wanderin' Wherry Tavern.

Tucked near the arch, just off to one side is a tiny wood-frame shop bearing the name 'Wildflower Boutique'. Windows have been cut along the cliff in various places along the cliff. Those of the administrative offices are placed to have the best view of Xanadu's airspace - to the southwest, over the entrance to the caverns and the infirmary. Others mark the dormitories and those of lucky residents, while toward the northern edge of that spur cluster the windows and entrances to the crafters' complex.

The rest of the Weyr lies to the north and east - a broad road that leads through the meadow and the trees of the forest beyond. At the far northern edge of the clearing, just inside the perimeter kept clear of trees, a clocktower sits and proudly displays the hour.

The post-Flight infirmary walk of shame is starting to become a Xanadu tradition, isn't it? It's all Risali's fault, obviously. But blame aside, there may have been some… whispers about Zhelinath's Flight last night. She's normally a fairly low-key green. She's flirtatious but ultra-picky, often seeming to choose the time and day of the event to specifically limit her least-favorites from participating. Last night's Flight was entirely out of character for her. She attacked the feeding grounds with a startling viciousness. When she rose, it wasn't a graceful, playful dance, but an angry race. No doubt there's a brown somewhere who may just regret having won that race. Some of that violence must have reflected back on the riders in question, because N'on showed up at the infirmary this morning looking pretty worse for wear. He sports a variety of odd cuts, bruises, and the hollow-eyed look of someone who hasn't slept. However, the reason for the infirmary visit was specifically to address his left hand, which was apparently injured in whatever altercation ensued. As he makes his way out of the infirmary and into the main clearing, his wrist is bandaged and the arm confined to a sling.

F'yr's trip to the infirmary had nothing to do with Zhelinath's unusual flight and everything to do with a lifemate who just so happened to forget that headbutting his lifemate in the chest is still currently on the list of specifically forbidden activities that are reviewed daily (sometimes twice daily) in the renewed efforts to get cracked ribs to finally heal after they just couldn't for so long during that first month of being bonded. Whatever the result, the bronze weyrling was on his way out when he caught sight of N'on, brows drawing down in a look of concern, and though he glanced back once, it's probably an easy mistake to think that the bronze weyrling would be along back to his own lifemate in the training grounds (or wherever he's ESCAPED TO, RIP whatever EVIL LOOKING THINGS he meets along his way to wherever that is), since that's his primary responsibility in life right now. There are already rumors that not too long ago Glorioth and his golden sister led an escapade into the Caverns when their riders lost track of them. Those rumors also cite two VERY LOUD full-grown dragons in the vicinity at the time, too, in most accounts so, there's that. Still, when N'on exits, there's a familiar tall, broad-shouldered blond loitering by the entrance. He moves to fall into step with the greenrider if he doesn't stop, one hand reaching gently to touch the elbow of the good arm, concern writ across his expressive face as he tilts his head down toward the shorter man.

N'on must be off in his own world by the time he leaves the infirmary. He certainly wasn't expecting F'yr to be loitering there, and doesn't notice him until the arm-touch. He flinches from the touch, startled, but when he notices it's F'yr, he tries to play it off with a smile. The smile doesn't really…work. There's no sign of genuine humor or affection. It's more a grim affectation of what he thinks he ought to look like. He shrugs off the concern, drops his gaze to the ground, and keeps walking.

The expression… that's really all the more reason for F'yr's face to end up pinching a little more in concern. The weyrling is T I R E D but that doesn't mean he's not still F'yr, somewhere under all that exhaustion. "I…" he starts softly, and then lets out a small gust of a breath before going on, "can see you want to be left alone. But… will you tell get word to me if there's anything I can do to help with… whatever? Or when you want to see me again?" It's not that F'yr thinks this has anything to do with him, far from it. It's that he's trying to respect an apparent boundary, but he doesn't really have the usual amount of time or freedom to find N'on at regular intervals between now and whenever to find out if the greenrider wants to see him. "I'll worry about you until then," is apology because it's not N'on's responsibility, but it's also candor from the weyrling who's often defined by his empathy for others.

[DTU/Project] Zhelinath senses that Glorioth's mindtouch seems to arrive in staggered increments, like he's trying, but not fully succeeding in channeling his baby thoughts yet. And yet, to the older green's mind comes at least a partial message. « … damsel? … FOR HONOR! » Who knows what the whole message was supposed to be. What does eventually sort of come through clearly is heroic (and off-key) music threading through the clash of weapons, flares of fire and rugged, dragon's dragons DRAGONLY MUSK as the backdrop for whatever words were supposed to come with the sensation of the baby bronze's mindtouch.

N'on lifts a shoulder at that, and repeats the same phrase. "You should not." It has less energy behind it, though. He turns to walk away again, shoulders hunched defensively. He stares hard at the ground as he goes.

[DTU/Project] Glorioth senses that Zhelinath responds quietly. The usual candleflame of her thoughts has blown out, leaving not even a thread of smoke behind. There is nothing but the ashes left in the wake of a forest fire, already cold. It's all a study in grey, and yet she reaches out to the weyrling dragon with a thready, monochrome thought: « There is no honor to be found here, Young One. Do not fight The Enemy. He will always win. »

F'yr might've let it go, really. He does have an annoying habit of respecting his friends' boundaries, only his eyes widen at something not here and he's stepping quickly after the greenrider. "N'on?" There's a real edge of something more than concern in his tone now. His hand goes to the greenrider's shoulder gently and then he's trying to get in front of him, lest he just keep walking, trying to hunker down enough to really get a look at his face. "You're okay?" There's alarm in F'yr's face. IS THIS A NOPE MOMENT? Hugs might hurt F'yr's cracked ribs still, but don't think for a moment that that will stop him if he thinks it's ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS. He probably doesn't even care that they're in the clearing or that Glorioth can get downright touchy about all the touching.

[DTU/Project] Zhelinath senses that Glorioth must be more motivated than usual because his next thoughts are steadier, stronger. Despite the diminished effect of her mind, her presence, that she replied might have given him something to follow back with his mind. « AHAHAHAHAHA, » was probably not at the top of the list of responses Zhelinath needed right now, but the baby bronze's boldness is fierce and strong. There is zero fear, zero caution, zero anything resembling sense in what he returns with in that booming laugh that is every bit of his self-assurance wrapped up in a single bouncing sound. « Why, Massive Maiden, » he might not remember her, but F'yr remembers her for him, « I am already tired of your defeatism. I HAVE NEVER MET AN ENEMY I COULD NOT BEST, » that he can remember and the possibility that there are things he couldn't achieve that he doesn't remember doesn't even enter his mind; such thoughts are preposterous in the extreme. « YOU HAVE BUT TO POINT ME AT THE FOE AND I WILL DISPATCH HIM POSTHASTE. » He suggests some caricatures of enemies that this enemy might be. BOVINE HEAD WITH MAN'S BODY? GOAT'S HEAD WITH MAN'S BODY? RAM'S HEAD WITH BOVINE BODY? FISH WITH SPIDERCLAW LEGS? He can go on. … and on…. don't tempt him.

N'on shrinks away from all that aggressive concern. He nods quickly, trying to avoid eye contact, even though F'yr is making that very difficult at the moment. If anything, it just seems to make him more determined to retreat.

[DTU/Project] Glorioth senses that Zhelinath is not as willing to retreat as her partner. Maybe it's her rider's current state of mind, what with the F'yr love-attack, or maybe it's Glorioth's overwhelming optimism, but she lashes out without any warning. Prepare for incoming overkill… This is not a shadow-puppet play, once removed from reality. It's all too real, and starts so close to Glorioth's own mind that perhaps it would be difficult to distinguish at first. There's all the foolhardy optimism of a young man setting out to Vanquish the Attackers. The absolute, rock-steady confidence that it will be /you/… no, /him/ that wins. Because the good guys /always/ win, right? But then everything goes wrong. Fear, trapped, monsters the size of trees in the shape of men with the minds of animals. TRAPPED. A blade slices across your… /his/ throat and this is what it feels like to know you are dying. And then it's over. « /That/. Is what monsters look like. » The words are a quiet hiss before Zhe retreats into the cocoon of her own mind, blocking Glorioth out.

F'yr can't. He can't. He yields at N'on's determination, but not without a pained noise in his throat that he can't seem to help, some half-formed protest. His hand rises, but not to touch N'on this time but to grip his own opposite shoulder, with just the one arm, but it might be some strange gesture of self-soothing - a one armed hug of his own cracked chest? Whatever it is, the gesture holds while he watches the greenrider go, and then he moves. It might be the same direction, but only by coincidence, his expression stormy, but that can't be helped. He's not moving so briskly as to jar his ribs, so there's a good chance that Glorioth is not somewhere in dire distress over Zhelinath's intense reaction. It's really probably for the best for everyone that she closed off and being a baby, whatever he might be trying to send her doesn't even make an imprint on that block, not even a tickle. It's almost definitely best that only F'yr hears how hilarious the baby bruiser finds all of this because THAT'S NOT WHAT ENCOURAGEMENT REALLY LOOKS LIKE, YOU LITTLE BRONZE MONSTER. Okayokayokay, monster is a bit strong, but F'yr-the-empath might feel the pang of a lifemate less feeling than he is a little in that moment, for all that he loves the ridiculous beast at the other end of his bond. F'yr might worry for N'on (okayokayokay, he will) but soon enough he's going to be distracted by having his hands full of baby bronze too BRAVELY BRAVE for his own good. Guess who's going to go hunt the FOE-VILLAIN tonight?

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License